


Love and War, etc.

by Rictus



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Biting, I Tried, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Military, PWP, Power Dynamics, Pre-Star Era, Rast's full name makes me laugh so much, Semi-established relationship, Tail Play, Who named them, nonhuman anatomy, oh geez, the lizards are gay, tofficore - relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 02:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11613693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rictus/pseuds/Rictus
Summary: It’d taken them years of dancing around each other, a look, a word, the flick of a tail, before things had fallen into place.





	Love and War, etc.

The soldier lay, back flush against his mattress, leaning against a mountain of pillows as warm breath fanned across his neck; sending shivers through his body he half-heartedly claimed were from revulsion. A sharp nip against his treps wound his fingers into the sheets, and he hummed in irritation as the tight jeans he wore were traced by delicate claws, ripping holes in the fabric. 

“Those were expensive, you know,” he huffed, trying to ignore the nubile tongue lapping the blood from his neck. 

“Were they? How… touching,” the voice above him purred, one sharp-tipped finger snapping a band of rips against his thigh. 

“Look at me,” Rasticocre whispered, and sighed in equal parts desire and frustration as his parter raised his head from the other’s neck, his eyes slitted with lust and his grin feral. He felt a shiver trace his body looking at those vicious teeth, almost unable to believe the pleasure that mouth could provide him; when all he’d seen it used for was stripping flesh from bone— both literally and metaphorically. 

“‘Look at me?’ You’ve certainly changed,” Toffee’s smile sharpened as his hands dug into Rasticore’s hips. “Can’t say that I mind.”  
“I’d say we’ve both changed,” the soldier allowed himself a smile, pushing himself into a sitting position and grabbing the back of the other man’s head, his fingers carding through silky black hair. “Throes of love and war, and all that.” They kissed smoothly, Rasticore sighing as he felt the familiar push of Toffee’s tongue against the back of his throat. His eyes flickered open to watch the animal hunger in his partner’s stare, and he gripped his handful of black hair tighter, pulling back, making the beast above him hiss, his tongue moving more forcefully now. Rasticore’s inhales became frantic and harried, his other hand winding around Toffee’s back. Finally, his partner relented.

“C-Can’t breathe,” He panted, to be met with a devious look. Around then he decided he was giving a little too much power to the damn general. “Your turn.”

“My—” Before he could finish with any semblance of confidence, Rasticore flipped them, pressing the thin fabric and smooth, cool grey scales he had grown accustomed to back against the bed. Giving the other no time to respond, Rasticore swiftly began pushing up the sheer fabric of his shirt, smirking at the sight of the tinted black cloth yielding to bare skin. He’d always gotten his damn shirts tailored too tight, showing off the ripples and curves of the body beneath; the mesh was just insult to injury— He had no use for armor, and throwing it in the enemy’s face like that…

“Mmm, what are you going to do to me, Private?”

“Be quiet,” Rasticore hummed, running his hands along the exposed, scaled skin; he wanted to take things very slowly, painfully slowly, and it wouldn’t do to be teased into rushing. He ran his hands over the smooth muscle of Toffee’s stomach, his fingers fluttering expertly over each curve, smiling to himself when the other man’s hips shifted beneath him, his arms above his head, fingers twitching and head turned to one side. 

“Let’s see how many pillows I can make you ruin today,” he muttered to himself, chuckling when the flesh beneath his hands twitched in anticipation. Rasticore began to stroke his way up, looking for the places where the scales became almost as fine as grains of sand, the skin beneath soft and flexible. He sighed, reading Toffee’s face carefully as he ran his fingers over one deep grey nipple. 

“Ah—Ahh,” the other man breathed, his chest arching up into the touch, one hand wrapping firmly around Rasticore’s wrist and pushing his hand down. “Ahhh…”

“Love and war, so they tell me,” Rasticore whispered to himself, twisting and flicking the tender bump, grinning as it puckered beneath his fingers; he positioned himself to get his other hand on the other nipple, feeling it quickly stiffen to match its neighbor. Toffee’s chest fluttered under his hands, and he watched in calm delight as the reptile’s teeth sunk into one of his pillows; muffled by the fabric he could hear Toffee pant his name. 

“That’s one new pillow you’re due,” Rasticore said simply, unrelenting in his attack. Toffee’s eyes were lidded, glistening with need, his body trembling beneath the other— Rasticore could hear his tail hitting the mattress. Ah, yes, his other favorite thing about Toffee.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you,” he smiled, giving both nipples one hard twist for good measure, chuckling when his partner gasped into a mouthful of feathers, his torso arching up. Rasticore removed his hands from the abused flesh and almost giggled when he saw they were all but twitching. 

“Oh, don’t give me that look, you’ll like what I’m about to do,” He purred, tearing his gaze away from the damn bedroom eyes that’d first gotten him into this mess all those months ago. Before he’d learned every inch of the body he’d used to watch. He could barely remember a self removed from the idea of making the creature beneath him moan. 

“Rast—Not th—Ohh!” 

With one hand, Rasticore had began kneading the base of the septarian’s tail, the thick underside where it fed into the rest of his body. He smiled to himself as the rest of the appendage wrapped mostly around him, squeezing desperately. Vaguely, he saw a spray of goose down and heard another sharp rip. Two pillows. His record was four. Toffee’s claws raked through the sheets, looking for anything to hold onto as his chest fluttered and arched. Rasticore’s hand massaged the thick line of muscle at the base of Toffee’s tail, pushing and teasing, the pressure to the spot nearly enough to make him scream. God damn him for finding that damn spot, so good, don’t twist it, not like that, not when you knead it like that, he snarled into his mouthful of pillow and concentrated on not whiting out, never mind the sounds that were escaping his tightened jaw. Right around then was when Rasticore, without any indication, slid one warm finger inside his partner. 

The sound Toffee made, of surprise and ecstasy, was nearly enough to send the soldier over the edge. He clenched his thighs hard to steel against coming and worked the finger deeper as he applied more pressure to the base, chuckling as he heard pillow number three bite the dust. He could feel Toffee’s tail flexing in the finger held inside his lover, the muscles twitching and contracting. He was always surprisingly tight, and uncommonly warm. Rasticore added a second finger and gasped involuntarily when the tail around his midsection squeezed hard enough to hurt. 

“Rast, fuck, gods, there— I—!” 

“You what? And don’t give me those goddamn eyes, you think I’m not close?”

“So close to it,” was all Toffee could get out, his eyelids fluttering. 

Rasticore used his free fingers to pinch the base, thrusting deeply with the two he had buried in his lover. 

“OHH, GODS!!” Four pillows.

He grinned as he found the place inside Toffee that his lover had been talking about, and pressed both fingers hard against it rhythmically while he kept up pressure on the base of his tail. He looked up just in time to see the slitted eyes roll back as his partner’s hips bucked off the mattress, a thick white ribbon painting his stomach. Rasticore found himself with two options, and chose the latter— not to stop. A second, smaller ribbon followed the first, Toffee’s head snapping to the side and tearing into another pillow. 

“Need you… Inside… Now,” he panted through a mouthful of feathers.

His partner nodded sagely and slipped his fingers out, focussing on massaging the base of the tail, forcing Toffee to loosen. 

“Now, stay right here,” he murmured, leaving his lover on the bed for several moments and returning with lube. When he returned, he found Toffee with his eyes closed, one hand pressed against his nipple, and his tail wrapped around his shaft, stroking firmly. 

“No, no,” Rasticore said gently, and tried to unwrap Toffee’s tail. Tried being the operative word. “I can’t go in if you’re in the way.”

The tail gave a sharp, milking pull, and Toffee moaned needily, his eyes scrolling beneath the closed lids. 

“God,” Rasticore breathed without quite realizing it, “You’re beautiful like that.”

“F—Fuck…”

“Is that how you treat yourself when I’m not there?”

“Yes…Ohh…Gods…” 

“Shh, but I’m here now,” Rasticore sighed, and gently tried unwrapping the tail again. He smiled when the tip curled around his finger instead. He slicked himself quickly and got into position, teasing the hole for a few seconds before burying himself to the base in his lover, starting off deep and slow and quickening his pass as Toffee’s hips bucked to meet him; Rasticore grabbed them and held him down, grinding into him, leaning in and biting the smooth curve of his neck. He felt a sharp-fingered hand wind around the back of his head, leaving deep, bloody scratches across his scalp The combination of pain, pleasure, and heat swirled over him, making him feel as if he would lose his mind. He changed the angle of his thrusts to hit the spot Toffee had indicated, and was met with a substantial chunk of him being all but ripped clean out, animal teeth burrowing into the flesh of his shoulder, every appendage wrapped around his body as Toffee came. Rasticore followed soon after, calling out his lover’s name as he filled him with white. 

—

He leaned back on the snowfall of shredded fabric and errant white feathers, one arm behind his head and the other wrapped protectively around Toffee, who had curled up against his side, tail intertwined with his. The soldier sighed to himself, warmth still humming through his body; his fingers traced absent patterns across the blue-gray scales of his superior. At the other end of the room, several skulls rattled against each other in a light breeze. It was hard to believe they belonged to the septarian pressed against him, his breathing slow and gentle, a small smile lingering on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting and I did not think it would be this; sorry it's so short. Please be gentle with me and my scaly porn. (Thank you to everyone on tumblr who encouraged me to do this crazy thing.)


End file.
